


Aftermath - 3 Months Out - The Memorial

by serendipityxxi



Series: The Void [12]
Category: Haven (TV)
Genre: Anxiety, F/M, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, The Void, bad at public speaking, town wide memorial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-09 15:15:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18640690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serendipityxxi/pseuds/serendipityxxi
Summary: Three times Audrey, Nathan and Duke saved each other just by being themselves.





	1. Nathan

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks to Jadzibelle for all the edits and handholding!

Three months after the fog wall goes down, the town apparently feels safe enough to believe they’re really out. Some of the rebuilding projects are complete. Almost everybody has power and water again. The schools have been reopened. The town council has all the first responders in counselling of some form or another. Nathan doesn’t hate his shrink, and he's determined to keep his Trouble turned off, which unfortunately means talking about things. So he's been going, he's been trying, but he probably could be getting more out of his sessions. He’s sure someone else is getting the most out of theirs, though, when the idea of a town-wide memorial gets passed around. Nathan wouldn’t mind, except he’s pretty sure someone’s going to ask him or Audrey to speak at it, and he’s… really not prepared to do that. What would he even begin to say?

The town sets the date for the memorial at the end of the month.

Duke declares he isn’t going. He doesn’t have to. At the end of the day, he’s a private citizen, no matter how many unofficial consulting services he provides for them. Audrey announces she isn’t either. Nathan doesn’t feel like he can avoid going, especially if Audrey isn’t. So he watches the day creep closer with dread.

They manage to forget about it for Audrey’s birthday. She tries to work through the day, complains of all the things they have to do, how it’s probably not even her real birthday, but there were too many times when they were sure she wasn’t going to see it.

“Doesn’t matter the exact day you were born, Parker, birthday’s ‘bout being glad you were,” he scolds gently, and doesn’t take no for an answer. Duke makes good on his promise from before the fog wall went down and they make the drive to the resort in Northern Maine.

Two hours, and a world away from Haven.

They spend the night drinking champagne and making love in the hot tub with towering pines standing sentry and the stars looking on. It’s an evening of candlelight and laughter and heat that Nathan holds on to during the days that follow. Those days are full of shouting and complaints from the townsfolk, indignant that he and Audrey dared take a day away from the Troubles. He holds onto it while navigating through the slush and rain that soaks through even his good winter boots and shrivels his toes. Uses it to temper his annoyance at Duke’s clothes littering the bathroom floor and Audrey’s ever growing pile of dirty dishes in the sink.

Learning to cohabitate with two other adults is… challenging. Especially now that it seems like the world might not be ending. Faults that were endearing last month are not quite as charming now. Nathan’s therapist hears a lot more about that than anything that went down during the shroud.

The days tick down amidst the cures and the complaints and the construction, and Vince does in fact ask both Nathan and Audrey to speak at the memorial. Audrey again insists she won’t be attending. Nathan tells him he’ll think about it. He can’t quite manage an outright no. Not when there’s no Dave to help Vince browbeat him into taking part.

\-----

The last Sunday in April dawns clear, not a cloud in sight. Nathan kisses Audrey’s sleeping brow before he heads out the door. She grunts at his “see you in a couple hours,” and flails an arm out from under the blankets to wave him off.

He finds Duke in the kitchen, already sipping coffee. He hands Nathan a to-go mug filled and doctored to his liking, their fingers overlapping as he hands it over. Duke’s hand is warmer than the insulated coffee cup. Nathan drags his thumb over Duke’s in greeting.

“Careful, it might be a little-”

“Hot?” Nathan finishes for him. He smiles, and he can feel it stretch his cheeks and crinkle his eyes. “Yeah,” Nathan nods. He can tell now. He watches Duke smile too, a little wry, a little proud. Nathan’s therapist has been talking to him about love languages; it makes it easier to hear the _I love you_ in Duke’s warning instead of the bossiness he used to hear.

“Back by lunch,” he promises Duke, pushing down the disappointment of giving up a lazy Sunday morning with his partners.

“Could stay home,” Duke offers, seeing something in his face, probably. “I’ll make you pancakes, you’ll avoid the rabble.” Duke’s hand twists back and forth as if weighing the options.

“Promised Vince,” Nathan says regretfully.

Duke nods, shrugs, like it means nothing, but his shoulders are tight, and Nathan knows Duke doesn’t want him to go, doesn’t want him to have to face this responsibility. He doesn’t press, doesn’t badger Nathan though, he respects his choice and that more than anything makes Nathan lean down and capture his mouth in a coffee flavored kiss, pouring the gratitude and affection he can’t find the words for into the kiss. Duke’s lips slide under his, slick and soft and a little surprised before he kisses Nathan back, a real kiss that makes Nathan’s stomach flip pleasantly.

When they pull apart Duke gives one long blink and that’s all the indication Nathan gets that he was as affected by that kiss as he was. It’s _satisfying_ nevertheless, that one slow reconfiguring blink.

“Back by noon,” Nathan tells him again, a little smug about the blink, and then his eyes go wide as he realizes what he’s said, how he’s set himself up.

Duke and Audrey started a game on her birthday of trying to make him blush now that he can actually feel it. And sadly, it doesn’t actually take much to make Nathan blush now that he can feel again because his sense memory is...vivid, to say the least. Nathan of course, doesn’t want to blush, doesn’t want to let them know they’ve won. In his mind they only win if he blushes when they can see it.

Duke’s eyebrows go up in mischief and he gives Nathan a sly smile. Nathan holds out a forbidding finger. “No,” he declares to Duke, whose smile only widens. Nathan manages to be halfway out the door before Duke can finish making the joke about a nooner. But he can still feel the blush riding high and hot on his cheekbones as he slams the door behind him. The warmth buzzing in his chest follows him all the way down the drive and through starting the bronco.

It only fades to a low hum when he pulls into a parking spot. The memorial is in one of the parks downtown, not the one outside the police station. The one on Shoal Street near the old armory. Nathan can see the ocean from where he’s standing, sunlight glinting like diamonds off the water, like nothing ever happened, like everything in the entire town hasn’t changed in the last six months.

Nathan takes a deep breath of the cool spring air, salty and clean with the proximity to the water. There’s a new statue in the square to commemorate what they went through, he can see it covered with a tarp. There are people milling all around, more than he expected. Some pass and call greetings, good mornings and how’s it going’s. They’re glad to see him. He makes them feel safer and he’s proud of that. Nathan takes another deep breath, feels his chest rise, his lungs fill, concentrates on that to shove down the anxiety roiling in his gut.

This is his town.

These are his people.

They’ve all been through hell together and if they need their Chief of Police to stand up and remind them it’s over, remind them he’s proud of how hard they fought, he can do that. They deserve that. The people who died during the shroud like Don Keaton and Dave deserve to have their deaths acknowledged, to have it mean something.

Haven is united in its grief. They’ve all lost something.

Nathan wishes for a moment that he’d convinced Audrey and Duke to come. They’re grieving too, after all. They weren’t ready to deal with all this, though, so Nathan shoves the thought away. They deserve all the time they need.

He squares his shoulders and marches into the park toward the stage that’s been erected for today.

He doesn’t even make it halfway across the grass before he’s stopped, Patrick from the hardware store wanting to shake his hand and Margie, Benjy’s wife, wants to hug him.

“He’s a hero, y’know,” she tells Sam and Walter Chegwidden. More people join them, smiling at Nathan. They’re all grateful. They all want to shake his hand. They all want to pat him on the back. And Nathan can feel them all- some clammy, some callused, weak grips and strong, hand after hand- touching him. Worse than that he can’t stop feeling the echo of their touches even after they let go. He can feel the weight of the crowd around him as people stop, wait their turn, press in against him.

Nathan can feel it all, can feel the squelch of the damp ground beneath his dress shoes and his pants brushing against his knees, can feel his tie choking him even as more people crowd around, talking, their voices blurring into a dull roar. Nathan can feel the cold surge of fear in his gut as the thought hits him- _he can’t get enough air!_ His heart starts to pound in his chest and they keep shaking his hand, keep patting his back. It’s so much. It’s too much. He twists his head left and right looking for an exit, a way out, but he’s surrounded on all sides. They’re still talking at him and he can’t answer their questions, can’t even make out what they’re saying over the sick twist of _too much, too much, too much,_ churning in his gut and his brain.

_Too much._

Nathan sucks in a shaky breath that he can barely hear and his vision flickers, his head reeling.

 _I'm going to pass out._ The thought ricochets through his body, lighting up panic in his blood, making his heart work triple time. Their chief of police is going to pass out in front of the whole damn town. Embarrassment floods his veins, like oil to the panic’s water, a swirling, eddying morass that makes his stomach roil.

Then a hand lands on the back of his neck, one he knows by touch alone, could recognize it even when he couldn’t feel a damn thing.

“Sorry ladies and gents.” That smooth, charming voice, that voice that’s bailed him out of so many other fixes in his life. Just the sound of it makes his knees weak with relief now. “I need to borrow the chief here, get him mic’d up and all that.” The hand tugs him away and the crowd parts and Nathan turns. He’s not sure he’s ever been more grateful to see Duke in his life and there’ve been a lot of times he’s been damn grateful to see Duke.

Duke hustles him off towards the stage but doesn’t let go, his hand on the back of Nathan’s neck a warm, solid, settling weight. He doesn’t move it, doesn’t take it away, just leaves it resting on the back of Nathan’s neck, connecting them, centering Nathan, making it easier to breathe somehow just by being there.

“Looked like you were turning a nice shade of puce there, buddy,” Duke jokes, shaking him a little as they walk, probably trying to make him stop looking puce.

“Somethin’ like that,” Nathan mutters, sucking in a breath and trying not to cringe at the greetings still coming their way.

Duke doesn’t take the stairs to the stage. Instead, he pushes Nathan around the side where there are fewer people milling around. Nathan puts his back against the stage and Duke puts a hand beside his head and leans in, his body a barricade between Nathan and the rest of the town.

Only then does he let concern enter his eyes. “You okay?” he asks Nathan bluntly.

Nathan appreciates the blunt, appreciates that he doesn’t joke. He nods and sucks in a longer, deeper breath. His lungs are working again, they no longer feel like umbrellas someone’s closed up.

“Nathan--” Duke says, making him meet his eyes. They’re squinted in worry, and Nathan wants to answer him, wants to explain, but the relief that he can breathe now is making him light headed.

He nods his head again.

He’s fine. It was just… overwhelming.

“Nathan, do you need to get out of here?” Duke tries again and Nathan can hear the patience wearing thin in his voice, the worry bubbling up from underneath.

“No,” Nathan rasps. “‘M okay,” he promises.

 “You don’t look okay,” Duke complains, expression going annoyed and it shouldn’t make Nathan want to laugh but it does.

“‘M fine,” he tries again. “Just the first crowd since--”

“Since you turned off your Trouble,” Duke fills in for him.

Nathan nods, quick and sharp. He can feel his heart slowing now that he can breathe again.

“Sure you don’t want to leave?” Duke asks _again_.

Nathan shakes his head again. “Just... keep standing where you’re standing,” he asks.

Duke smiles, a real one, not the mocking one he does when Nathan’s being an idiot, the real one he uses when he feels appreciated. Nathan smiles back. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knows they look like idiots standing here smiling at each other but in this moment, right now, he just doesn’t care.

“Thought you weren’t coming to this.” Nathan nods over Duke’s shoulder and then has to fight not to turn tail and run in the opposite direction as he sees the crowd has doubled since they’ve been talking.

Duke shrugs and looks away when he answers with the flimsiest excuse of, “Audrey thought you might need backup.”

“Audrey thought so, huh?” Nathan asks, fighting a smile.

“What are partners for, after all?” Duke’s reply takes Nathan’s breath away with a much more pleasurable whoosh. Duke rarely puts a label on this thing they’re doing; half the time he acts like he’s still surprised to be here. It’s nice to hear him acknowledging what they have. Nathan inhales sharp and shaky and smiles at Duke, wider than before. Duke smiles back and on anyone else Nathan would have said it was a shy smile, but Duke Crocker doesn’t do shy.

“Thanks, _Partner_ ,” Nathan tells him with feeling.

Duke nods quick and tense, like he’s getting away with something and he’s not sure how long he has to do so.

“She also gave me these,” Duke rummages in his pockets and pulls out something. He holds out his hand and Nathan sees it’s a pair of orange ear plugs.

They both burst out laughing. “For your truly terrible public speaking skills,” he informs Nathan who laughs harder still.

“Too bad you didn’t bring a pair for me,” Nathan complains.

“Next time,” Duke offers.

Nathan nods, eyes flicking to Duke’s lips which are very close to his own.

Then they’re calling for him up on stage, startling Nathan and Duke apart. Nathan shoots Duke an apologetic look and Duke steps back with a grand gesture toward the stage. Nathan rolls his eyes but claps Duke on the shoulder.

“Thanks,” he says again and he means it, he means it for so many things.

“Yeah, yeah,” Duke scolds, but the half smile on his face is real, “get up there.”

Nathan goes.

 


	2. Duke

Duke thinks about going back to his truck for the duration of the ceremony with the ear plugs in and the radio on. He doesn’t need to hear what all these people lost because of the shroud, he doesn’t need to hear those tears and those recriminations. He already feels badly enough, thank you very much. 

Nathan’s face, pale and panicked in the midst of the crowd pops into his head before he can take two steps. It’ll be even worse when he gets off stage. Duke had to park the Tramp too far away, he won’t be able to see when Nathan’s done speaking. 

So he aims for the back of the crowd, the outskirts so he’ll be able to get to Nathan quickly. He tucks the plugs in as he goes- he doesn’t hate himself that much. He watches the crowd, their noise dulled, just a dim buzz permeating. The mayor steps to the middle of the stage and welcomes everyone there. Duke can hear him but the words are muffled. He finds himself a nice tree, new green leaves budding in its crown and leans against it, carefully studying the ground near his feet, the crowd as it shifts and fidgets.

The ear plugs do their job well, but he can still see the teary eyes, see neighbors embracing neighbors, see families struggling to fill the empty spaces where missing loved ones should fit. Duke goes back to staring at his feet. The ear plugs keep expanding too much, pushing themselves out of his ears so he has to keep pushing them back in. 

The mayor finishes speaking and someone else steps up, not Nathan. 

The ear plugs start slipping out again and he hears it from somewhere nearby, “--Crocker,” the word whispered with fear, anger. 

“That’s him,” a second voice whispers. “He’s the one who--” the rest of the sentence is lost in the rush of blood to Duke’s head.

Duke wants to take out the ear plugs, wants to turn around and be the monster these two idiots expect him to be. He wants to push the ear plugs back in and pretend he didn’t hear anything. He finds himself frozen, eyes forward, hands at his side, gut churning in frustration - and no small dose of fear. For his control, for his safety. Hasn’t he worked hard enough to be past this? Hasn’t he paid his penance to this godforsaken town? He’s bled and sacrificed and saved so many only to be met with this? 

Someone passes him on the left and Duke spins, expecting a fight, but it’s a teenager, tall and lanky and headed for the group of kids a few feet away.

Duke pulls the earplugs from his ears just as two people in the crowd turn to glance at him and look away when they find him looking back. Two men in their fifties, in plaid shirts and heavy boots despite the mild spring weather. The taller one looks away, embarrassed to be caught. The shorter one eyes Duke like he’s taking a description for a wanted poster.

He turns back to his friend and says something again; again, Duke only catches the word  _ Crocker _ said in the same tones he’d use for spidren or Croatoan.

Shame burns in his stomach, in his ears. 

To hell with them, Duke tells himself. To hell with their judgement. He knows what he did. He knows how he…

A hand slips into his right, small and warm and fine boned.

He glances down and meets Audrey Parker’s angriest face. The one that promises to make you pay for being an ignorant, intolerant, piece of shit. 

“Audrey--” he says quietly in surprise, and he’s man enough to admit the swooping feeling in his stomach is relief. “Weren’t you supposed to stay home?” he asks.

“Weren’t you?” she demands.

Duke gives her a small, self-conscious grin. “Thought Nathan could use the back up.”

Audrey nods and twines their fingers together, glaring at the men in the crowd. “I thought you could use some too,” she tells him simply. “You know what a handful Nathan can be,” she adds, swinging their hands lightly.   


Duke laughs and nods. It's nice to have back up. Really nice.


	3. Audrey

Audrey listens to the speeches from as far back in the crowd as they can manage. She won’t leave Duke and Nathan. Nathan isn’t alone on stage at least, he’s got Hannah Driscoll next to him looking like a lady in her cardigan set and pearls.

He isn’t the first speaker and he’s not the last. There are no video cameras from the news station, only photographers. People speak freely and from the heart, no cover ups today. It hurts more than Audrey thought it would and she had been prepared for it to hurt.

They don’t talk about lives lost or businesses ruined in the bland, bloodless terms of forms and figures of FEMA. They talk about the people they lost, who they were, how they loved, how they’re missed. They talk about waking up reaching for someone who isn’t there, the sheets cold under their fingers. They talk about turning a corner expecting a home and finding a ruin. They talk about the oppression of the shroud and the darkness Trouble, the fear of the monsters from the void, about the despair that stacked up day upon day.

Audrey can tell Nathan feels each word like a blow though he stands blank faced, shoulders squared, feet at parade rest. She knows it hurts. She feels that same nagging guilt that they should have been faster, pulled it together sooner but that’s not the worst part.

What hurts the most are the looks people send Duke, or a few of the other Troubled people who went public about their status. What hurts are the whispers when someone else admits to being Troubled on that stage as if it’s something scandalous. What hurts is the way the crowd shifts when a man from the Good Shepherd church gets his turn to speak. He doesn’t use the phrase the ungodly. He uses the term blessed but he uses it to mean those who have no Troubles

On and on it goes. Duke shifts at her side. He doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t look angry. He looks tired.

Audrey hates that. She _hates_ it.

Some of the speakers talk about the help they got from the Guard, some about help from the HPD. They _all_ talk about Audrey Parker, her name pronounced in hushed murmurs of respect, reverence. They’re grateful. They’re grateful to her and they’ll say it because she’s not Troubled. She’s normal.

Would they be so grateful if they knew the whole story? Would she still be their savior or would they turn up on her porch with pitchforks and torches? Would they care what she sacrificed to save them? Would they care that she and Mara aren’t the same being? Would they care that she chose them?

Probably not.

People turn to her in the crowd and smile and she can’t meet their eyes. She doesn’t want their gratitude.

They’re grateful but they don’t want to thank Duke who almost died, who sacrificed his goddamn free-will for them. They’re grateful but just last week she got asked could she produce a list of the Troubled. Just so folk know what they’re dealing with. They’re grateful but they still feel like they’re better than the Troubled.

They’re grateful but they’re still so goddamn bigoted!

It’s like they’ve learned nothing.

They’re still so _petty_ and frightened and human.

Audrey blinks back a surge of hot angry tears. She refuses to cry here where they’ll think it’s for them.

She wants to get up on stage and shout at them, to make them understand that their attitudes make people want to hide. That they make good, kind, generous people out to be _monsters_ with their intolerance. Worse than that they make those people actually _feel_ like monsters. And that’s when the secrets start, that’s when people cut themselves off. The Troubles could have been a blessing in disguise if they’d chosen to make them so. If the town had accepted the strange new abilities. If the town hadn’t forced the Troubled into hiding in plain sight just to avoid persecution.

On stage Nathan whispers to Hannah and she squeezes his hand before he steps out of the line of speakers and up to the mic.

He shuffles his feet looking out at the audience. Audrey wonders if he’s thinking about the last public speech he made and how well that went. How so many of these people out here, people who are smiling and nodding and glad to see him now, people who wouldn’t be standing here today without his actions - how so many of them voted to have him killed to soothe their ruffled feathers.

Nathan spots them, probably because of Duke's tall frame, and smiles directly at them for a moment. Duke waves back. He keeps his gaze on them as he talks.

“Couple years ago,” he begins, “we had a case of counterfeit money being funneled through the town.” The crowd shifts, surprised, not sure where he’s going with this story. “I never would have been able to bust the whole ring myself.” They murmur and he smiles again, a tight lipped, practiced smile that tells Audrey he banked on that response.

“Know, that’s not something you expect to hear any cop admit, but it’s true. Luckily for me I had help. No one I would have expected. A criminal, came to me, informed me of the situation and then helped me work undercover to take down the whole ring.” The crowd murmurs some more and Audrey notices Duke’s smug smirk. She elbows him in the side and he looks down at her with his best ‘who me?’ expression. It makes Audrey laugh.

“Point I’m trying to make is sometimes help comes from strange places, places you wouldn’t expect, places you might not want to accept help from.” He makes a rueful face. “Was only by working together with someone who was different, someone who I had to take a chance on I was able to make that bust. Guess we all saw how true that was when the fog wall was up. We got by through grit and determination and learning to trust even the people we had no reason to. Only reason we’re all standing here is because we all pulled together. Was a hard lesson to learn. Hope it’s not one we forget anytime soon.”

Nathan pauses here, looks out over the crowd, searching faces with that piercing gaze.

This is his town. These are his people. He knows them. They trust him to take care of them.

Audrey hopes they take his words to heart.

He nods and steps back and the audience applauds. Some with gusto and heart, others with that rigidly polite well mannered New Englander clapping that makes hardly any noise at all.

Audrey hates that she doesn’t know what to say or how to say it to make them listen.

While she’s seething, Hannah Driscoll takes the mic. The crowd goes quiet, expectant, the air shifting as the jerks in the audience take notice. Hannah's their beloved Rev’s daughter, after all.

She clears her throat and smiles out at the gathered crowd. “Thank you, Chief Wuornos, for that reminder,” she says with a nod at Nathan. Then she turns and smiles at her audience, her shoulders drop from around her ears and she settles, determination in the lines of her face. “My name is Hannah Driscoll, a lot of you know me, my father was Reverend Ed Driscoll.” The crowd murmurs in both approval and distaste. “Today I’d like to build on what Chief Wuornos said, perhaps with a bit less grace and tact than he showed,” she says with a smile, even as the murmurs start up.

Audrey herself is surprised how much the mousey little Hannah Driscoll she met when she first came to Haven has grown into herself since she got out from under her father’s thumb. Audrey smiles back and listens.

“Growing up in the shadow of The Good Shepherd I learned a lot. I learned the bible says to love my neighbor as I love myself. I learned the golden rule - treat others as you would want to be treated.” The crowd squirms at her words. “Most of all I learned what happens when we sow division and bigotry in a community.” They all go still, surprise flitting across most faces that she’s addressing the issue directly. “I’ve seen what pride and arrogance and bigotry can do to a person.” She continues even over the angry mutters. “And to a congregation.” She doesn’t falter or blush or look in the least ashamed of what she’s saying in the face of the crowd’s dissent.

“I’ve also seen what happens when we are better than we once were, when we learn from our mistakes. We lived through the horrors of this winter only because we worked together. We’re only standing here today because we managed to put aside Troubled or Un-troubled and met each other as people who had a common goal, people who needed to accomplish something with whatever resources they could scrounge together. That’s why we’re all here today, not because the Troubles are over, but because we stopped seeing the Troubled as just their Troubles and they started being people. We were mighty this winter. We accomplished great feats. We were strong _because_ of our differences. Together we made resources that helped us to survive. We were strong because we came together and declared in one voice Haven would not yield.” The loudest murmurs from the crowd yet come out of this. “And we didn’t,” Hannah says with a smile for her town. “We didn’t yield. We claimed each other. We claimed our town. Don’t forget that in the wake of our new freedom,” she pleads and steps back from the mic.

The crowd applauds, stronger than Audrey expected. Audrey blinks back tears herself.

Hannah steps back into place next to Nathan, flashes him an encouraging smile that he returns.

Mercifully, there aren’t very many speakers left and they make their way over to wait for Nathan at the edge of the stage with relative ease while the crowd is still listening. Finally, the Mayor wraps things up and Audrey studiously doesn't listen to his final remarks. Duke is a warm, solid presence at her elbow and Audrey keeps her gaze focused on the stairs hopefully discouraging anyone from coming up to her with her clearly busy pose. It doesn’t work. People pass as they leave and call her name. She nods briefly or gives a halfhearted wave but one woman won’t take the hint. She tugs at the elbow of Audrey’s jacket insistently.

Audrey turns in surprise and annoyance.

The woman is in her mid-forties with a sweater set and cross necklace that could have come from the same rack as Hannah’s. She smiles a church lady smile that sets all of Audrey’s hackles on end. She remembers her from the high school. She’d been insistent she shouldn’t be housed in the same shelter as _the Troubled_.

“Officer Parker,” she begins and Audrey’s already annoyed.

“It’s detective, actually,” she corrects. Beside her she can all but feel Duke’s smirk. She doesn’t care right that minute.

“Detective,” the woman corrects. “I just want to thank you.” She reaches for Audrey and Audrey takes a step back, hands coming up to ward her off and steps back into a wall of lean muscle. She glances over her shoulder and there’s Nathan, his warm hands land on her shoulders bracing her, steadying her.

“Nice to see you, Eileen,” Nathan rumbles.

Eileen smiles, delight that Nathan remembers her suffusing her cheeks.

“How’s your boy Andrew doing?” Nathan asks, completely oblivious as usual.

“He’s fine, Chief Wuornos, just fine,” Eileen gushes.

“Eileen’s adopting Andrew Montgomery,” Nathan explains to Audrey and Duke.

_Andrew Montgomery of the glittering chest Trouble?_ Audrey wonders.

“His parents were killed during the Darkness Trouble,” Eileen confides, looking pained.

Yes, Audrey remembers hearing about that now.

“Andrew was all by himself afterward at the high school and so was I and we just sort of looked after each other.” Her hand flutters up to play with her necklace. “He didn’t feel up to coming today,” she shares, “but I felt like one of us should be here. To pay our respects…”

Audrey feels the cold hard ball in her stomach ease a little.

She nods to Eileen. “It was a tough day,” she agrees.

“Thank you for coming,” Nathan tells her and he means it, Audrey can tell. Eileen smiles and blushes.

“Well I won’t keep you,” she steps back into the crowd and is gone in a moment.

Audrey turns her head to glance up at Nathan.

“That was nice of you,” she praises and it’s Nathan’s turn to blush with an 'aw shucks' dip of his head. Audrey’s heart melts at how much like a little boy he looks with that gesture.

“Still not any better at the public speaking thing though,” she teases.

Nathan snorts, Duke chuckles.

“C’mon, let’s blow this popsicle stand,” Duke encourages, throwing his arms around Audrey and Nathan’s shoulders and herding them towards the street.

They get stopped more times than Audrey appreciates on their way to the Bronco. Nathan rescues her again and again, stepping in and handling the gushing old ladies and the grateful fathers Audrey is trying very hard not to resent.

Jack Driscoll and Carrie Benson cross their path. Jack spots them and approaches. Duke moves to put himself between him and Nathan, but Nathan gives him some signal that it’s okay. Some twitch of an eyebrow maybe. Jack and Nathan do the manly backslap thing that definitely isn’t hugging.

“I’ll never forget what you did for Aiden when the fog wall was up, brother,” he swears.

“Nothin’ to remember,” Nathan assures him, looking embarrassed.

Audrey doesn’t mention that she too saved Aiden once and that apparently has been forgotten. She wonders if Nathan saved Aiden at the station after she turned off the monitors.

“So…” Duke drawls, “hi, Carrie.” He waggles his eyebrows, bouncing his gaze between Carrie and Jack.

Carrie laughs and Jack wraps his arm around her waist. “Hi, Duke,” she answers with an eyeroll and a nod of her head. “It’s a fairly new development,” she acknowledges.

Jack beams. “I found out this Troubled thing isn’t so bad if you have someone to help _carry_ your Troubles,” he jokes, and Carrie groans and elbows him in the ribs.

“It was nice seeing you guys,” Carrie says firmly, “but we have to go have a conversation about puns,” she tells Jack in a mildly threatening tone.

Audrey and Duke laugh. Jack shrugs and lets Carrie drag him off into the crowd.

Duke and Nathan exchange significant glances watching them go.

“The Rev must be rolling in his grave watching his favorite nephew associating with the _ungodly_.” Duke’s imitation of the Rev makes them all laugh.

“He’s not the only one,” Nathan points to two little old ladies shuffling down the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street. “Brenda Macey-” he points to the first one, “and her husband were card carrying members of the Good Shepherd church while he was alive. They hated their neighbors,” he points to the second old lady, “because Marilyn and her husband were Troubled. Brenda’s house burned down during the shroud. Guess who she’s staying with now.” They watch the two women get into the same car and Audrey feels a smile tugging at her lips.

They finally make it to the Bronco but before she can get in, Audrey is barrelled into by something small and compact. Little arms wrap themselves around her legs and squeeze. She laughs and looks down into Gator Pierson’s gap-toothed grin.

“Might want to watch where you’re going there, kid,” Duke drawls.

Gator sticks his tongue out at him.

Duke sticks his tongue out at Gator in return making the kid crack up.

Another little boy appears, but he hangs back a few feet away, shy and a little suspicious.

Gator stops laughing when he spots his friend and turns to Audrey.

“Can you tell my friend Steve I really know you and you really went out through the fog wall and brought everybody back pizza,” Gator demands.

“It’s true,” Audrey tells Steve very seriously. “I don’t joke about pepperoni pizza.”

Steve breaks into a smile and dashes off, with Gator hot on his heels. His triumphant “I told you so!” rings back to them.

Nathan shakes his head in wonder. “That was Steve Albrecht, George Albrecht’s kid.” Audrey and Duke continue to look at him blankly. “George Albrecht was one of the parents involved in starting up the segregated school last year.”  

Oh. Oh wow. Audrey watches the two little boys run up to Steve’s dad, pointing in excitement back at the Bronco.

Albrecht glances over and smiles, nods at her.

Audrey gets into the truck.

They’ve made a start, she realizes as Duke and Nathan get in on either side. Maybe they haven’t won everyone over, there will always be bigoted assholes but some people have changed, some people will continue to change. It’s not everything, but it’s a start.

Audrey didn’t realize how tense her shoulders were until they relax. She slumps back into the seat and lets Duke wrap his arm around her, lets Nathan twine their fingers together.

Audrey thinks of how much the Rev would have hated today and smiles. She thinks of Eleanor and Garland, dying to keep their secrets from being told. They wouldn’t believe a Haven like this one could exist.

It’s a start.


End file.
